Hunger
by AKKON
Summary: Natural selection: only the fittest survive. Lara and the TRex have more in common than meets the eye.


**A/N:** For some obscure reasons, I always tend to identify more with the villains (or should I say, the victims) than with the hero, which obviously doesn't stop me from feeling a thrill of guilty pleasure every time I kill (in my Lara incarnation) a T-Rex. I had this little story half-written when I was invited to be a judge for the Third VOT fanfic competition. Since being a judge exempted me from entering, I posted a comment at the KTEB about wanting to see a TR story told from the POV of a T-Rex. Then, something incredible happened. **Sarah Crisman**, possibly the queen of TR fanfiction, went and wrote a story based on my idea (Sarah's piece, **"Extinction"** is posted here somewhere, and all I can say is that anyone wanting to learn how to write good, original fanfiction should go and read that one!)

To see another author's take on the same idea that is so, so much better makes posting my own all the more embarrassing. But I've got a healthy ego, and I believe my story has its own merits. Plus, I want to have all my creations archived somewhere else than my own desktop. So here it is.

* * *

**HUNGER**

_For Sarah Crisman_

She was alone, she was tired, but most of all, she was hungry. Starvation gnawed at her entrails like a crazed rodent, some mysterious animal still in evolution's future, and its insistence filled the convolutions of her simple brain with a dark foreboding of its own demise.

The valley was small, a concave in the bosom of the mountain, and perpetually veiled by mist, dew drops sparkling on ferns as delicate as lace and on the wide, glossy gingko leaves –their prettiness deceitful, the leaves had serrated edges, sharp as her own teeth were sharp; everything here was deceiving, from the vibrant greens that concealed the thorns and the lurid palette of the poisonous flowers to the sweetish fumes rising from the swamps. The valley's limited dimensions offered limited possibilities, and after the last herbivore passed on, the predators themselves had become prey.

At the time she had run across what would be her last supper she hadn't known it, and she knew no better now. That scanty snack, the small Diplodocus calf, had barely sufficed for both herself and her mate, and they had stood trembling, voraciously gulping chunks of meat while they eyed, in resentment, the much bigger mother stuck in the quicksand, sinking so slowly, the graceful arched neck swaying to and fro as it longingly mewled for its lost calf. Then only the Velociraptors remained, for they were able to prosper on the elusive meat of the fast scurrying primeval mammals, and because the raptors, hunting in packs and not alone like she did, were now the kings of this lost world, even though they ignored their kingdom's transience.

It was the raptors that had taken her mate, who was a lot smaller than herself but still a lot bigger and deadlier than a raptor, two raptors, a dozen. And even a dozen Velociraptors thought twice before tackling a Tyrannosaur, and thrice for two. She could not begin to understand the changes in her life, one moment the hunter and the next the hunted. But her former mate, who had needed even longer to grasp this concept of change, was now a pile of bones bleaching in the sun and she was alive, albeit pained by the festering wound on her right flank and the desperate hunger.

That was the reason she trod forward, opening new paths through the thicket, surprisingly silent for a beast her size. The raptors were keening, their short fierce cries punctuating the excitement of the chase, and these days she wasn't beyond devouring whatever leftovers they deigned to leave in their wake, those versatile, quicker, more sinuous, more _numerous_ heirs to her kingdom. And that was the reason, too, why she didn't back up into the forest as her nostrils caught the new, unfamiliar scent – it was faintly reminiscent of the warm-blooded prey she was too slow to catch, and the scent shaped something in her brain that was soft and juicy even though tinged with the fear of the unknown. She mistook the detonations for thunder, and this mistake she'd never repeat, for she would never hear the sound of shots again.

* * *

She was alone, and tired, but most of all, she was hungry. Still clutching the pistols, she circled the fallen mountain of flesh, eyeing it sideways while she kept an eye out for more of the smaller beasts to come challenging her catch; but the valley lay silent, shrouded in mist, festooned with rainbows. It was hard to accept the evidence of her senses, this impossible, mythical creature resting quietly at her feet. She risked a hand on the immense chest, the skin was not rough as she had always imagined such a skin should be, but smooth and cool to the touch like a lizard's or a snake's, and vividly coloured. Underneath, a mighty heart was slowing, syncopating –_one, one-two_; blood in, blood out; _one, one-two_- and blood was oozing from countless tiny holes –_one, two_; _one_, and then nothing, only a glazed eye staring at her in mute reproach. 

Her legs collapsed, and she sat down heavily on the trampled ground, not far away from the initial imprint this archaic king had left for her to step upon – failing to register, truth to tell, its significance. Her boot had slipped on the hardened mud of the track, but only as she, moved by a sudden impulse, stooped and placed a hand on the earth, and felt it trembling, not unlike the tremor that announces an approaching train, did she make the connection between what her synapses were telling her and her rational brain denied.

Was it possible to eat a T-Rex? Aussies ate crocodile steaks, and lizards roasted on sticks were a delicacy in some places; she couldn't really think of a plausible reason why she shouldn't camp here for the night, build a fire –maybe on that shelf of stone that had saved her hide minutes ago. There was plenty of wood and clear water around, and with a full stomach she might figure out a way to sever the beast's head and secure it –from a high branch the smaller predators wouldn't reach, perhaps inside the small cave itself?- until she could have it shipped back to a talented taxidermist of her acquaintance.

The head would look lovely on her fireplace.

_Finis_

_**Special thanks to the Jordanosaurus, fastest beta of the Jurassic, from an always devoted Velocirakkon**_


End file.
